


The Bus Remedy

by randomling



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-10
Updated: 2008-11-10
Packaged: 2017-10-11 05:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomling/pseuds/randomling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin isn't feeling so good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bus Remedy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trumpeterofdoom](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=trumpeterofdoom).



Justin coughed, sighed and rolled over in bed. It was stupid how this always happened; one of the reasons he worked all the time. Whenever he took a break he seemed to get sick - like, within a couple of days, as if his body had decided to take full advantage of the opportunity to bitch. He couldn't remember a time it hadn't been that way.

Actually, yes, he could; the summer he was ten, when he'd run around for the whole long vacation like an ordinary, healthy kid. A year later, he'd been gearing up to be a Mouse, and had spent weeks beforehand half-paralyzed with nervous tension.

At least this time it was just a cold, though the kind that came complete with a fever and a nasty sinus headache, instead of the bouts of stomach-flu-or-maybe-food-poisoning he'd been known to come down with in the past. He sat up in bed and scratched at his beard, because the other thing about taking time off was he didn't bother to shave.

Seconds later, the door was swinging open. He looked up at it was Jessica, hovering in the doorway with the phone in one hand. "You work too much," she said, and he made a face, because the problem at times like these was that he didn't work _enough._ "JC's on the phone."

He nodded and held out his hand. Jessica tossed the phone onto the bed and turned away, leaving the bedroom door ajar, and Justin had to bend forward and scuffle for the phone for a minute before the plastic sat comfortably in his sweaty hand. "Hey," he said. He could hear the scratch in his voice, and cleared his throat loudly.

"Ew," said JC, laughing. "You sound like crap, man."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sick, what a surprise."

"On a break?"

"Uh-huh."

"Mm. So I guess you don't wanna come hang out with me tonight?"

Justin opened his mouth to respond and a cough came out instead.

"Guess that's a no," JC said. "Okay, I'm gonna let you sleep. Feel better, man."

With that, JC rang off; the product of a relationship that spanned over half Justin's life, and just about half of JC's too, now, was that they didn't bother any longer with protracted hellos and goodbyes. They'd spent too much time living in each other's pockets; now they just drifted on and off of each other's radar screens, and when they made contact there didn't seem to be a need for much except a 'hey' and a then a conversation that wouldn't mean much of anything to anyone else.

He could have done with a goodbye today, though.

He sighed again, set the handset on the nightstand gently, and flopped onto his back.

***

Justin might have been on a break, but Jessica wasn't. By the time he got downstairs, still in pajamas and bathrobe, she was gone. He got as far as the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. He was thinking about Chris's 'infallible tour bus cold remedy', as he called it: strong coffee spiked with whatever alcohol they happened to have a lot of, Chinese food from the cheapest place in town, and endless hours of Tekken until their eyes ached and they fell asleep on the couch.

The only alcohol he and Jessica had in the house was wine. Justin figured coffee with Rioja in it would just make him throw up, and he so didn't want to add that to the list of symptoms.

He was watching the slow drip-drip of coffee into the pot, completely mesmerized, when the doorbell rang. He straightened, coughed unhappily, and dragged his hand across his face before going to answer it. The hair of his beard scratched against the back of his hand and his head ached. He so didn't want visitors right now.

The sun was so bright outside that for a second he couldn't make out who was standing in front of him. Then everything resolved and he squinted, because it was JC. JC said, "Hi."

"Hey," Justin said.

JC's arms were full of two grocery bags, so Justin stepped back and let JC inside. JC grinned and walked through to the kitchen without another word, leaving Justin to shut the door and follow him much more slowly, confused. JC was emptying the bags onto the counter: several bottles and a huge number of cardboard cartons. Plus several sets of chopsticks.

"Chinese food?" Justin said dumbly.

"Yup." JC didn't look up, just kept emptying the bags out onto the counter. Justin stepped forward to help, and JC held up a hand. "Ah-ah-ah. You're sick."

"JC, what are you doing here?"

"You need a cold remedy. Plus, you sounded kind of - lonely on the phone." At the bottom of the last bag was a stack of old-looking computer games. Playstation, Justin realized after a second's examination. He wasn't even sure if they'd play on the PS3 he almost never touched.

"It's - " Justin checked the kitchen clock. "Ten in the morning. Where did you even find take-out?"

"I have my sources," JC said with a wicked smile.

He caught Justin's eye, and Justin smiled back around his sore throat. "You want a coffee?" he managed, and his voice sounded horrible, raspy and dry.

"Sure," JC said. He indicated the bottles on the counter. "We can have Irish, Russian, or... uh, Mexican, I guess?"

"I'm not doing coffee with tequila at ten o'clock in the morning," Justin said.

JC barked out a laugh. "You're getting old, Justin."

***

At JC's behest, Justin sank down onto the couch and waited. JC brought first a cup of coffee - with Jack, and a lot of it, by the taste - and then started to carry in the cartons of food. Justin loaded up on kung pao chicken and noodles, and JC had gotten a double order of prawn crackers, which would make enough for them to munch through most of the day. When JC crossed the room to close the drapes, and then crouched by the TV to fiddle with Justin's PS3, Justin couldn't help but smile.

"You suck at video games," Justin pointed out.

"Drink your coffee." There was a pause, and then the console came on, and JC made a triumphant noise. "I couldn't scare up Chris at short notice," JC said.

"If he could make it from Orlando in an hour I'd be impressed," Justin said. Truth was, it felt a little like Chris was the missing piece. What with the spiked coffee and the rich smells of Chinese food and Tekken starting up on the TV, it was almost like being sick on the bus. Like he could call Joey's cell and get a run-down of what life was like with Lance with the ferret and the porn and Joey's mountains of pasta. Not that their bus had been short on porn, or anything.

He took a sip of his coffee, and the whiskey was warming and soothing down his throat. He grabbed a mouthful of food with his chopsticks, chewed it, and had managed another before JC pushed the controller into his hand.

"Gonna kick your ass," Justin said.

JC smiled and did his best Chris impression. "Good luck, kid."

***

As predicted, Justin kicked JC's ass. His head still ached, but at least now he could pretend that was from hours of staring at the TV in the darkened living room. He and JC were squeezed together on the couch, though there was plenty of space, and Justin was leaning forward to get as good a view of the screen as he could. The only time JC managed to get a good move in was when Justin had to turn away from the screen to cough.

"Man," JC said, some way into the afternoon, when they were pleasantly drunk on booze-loaded coffee and very, very full of Chinese food. "You are way too good at this. Even when you're sick."

"You don't remember? I get the mojo when I'm sick."

JC rolled his eyes. That had been part of one of Chris and Justin's long-standing arguments, who was better, what affected their skill. Justin was better sick, and Chris was better stoned; they both sucked when they were drunk, but even Justin's drunken lack of prowess was nothing against JC and his mind-boggling inability to master the basics of the game. His excuse was, 'I'm more of a board game person', which made Chris snort and threaten to send JC over to the other bus for punishment.

"Of course you do," JC said. He grinned, though, and Justin grinned back.

"You want me to play one-handed? C'mon, give you a fair chance."

JC took him up on the challenge and, with two hands to Justin's one, actually gave him a fair fight and even won a couple of matches. Justin didn't like that - it was generally agreed that JC, for all his lack of skill as a Tekken player, was a much better loser than either Justin or Chris. So JC told him to go back to two-handed play, and let him fight a couple of matches against the computer while JC made more coffee. Russian, this time.

"In a couple of hours, you'll be drunk enough for the tequila," JC said solemnly.

Justin giggled - a sure sign that he was drunk. That and the fact that all his fingers seemed to have turned into thumbs and as a result the computer was actually beating him. "Jessica'll be home in a couple of hours," he said.

"Oh," said JC.

JC had settled back on the couch, comfortable and warm pressed up next to Justin. He took up his controller, and Justin squinted at the screen so that he could get back to a two-player battle. When he'd gotten there, he took a sip of his Russian coffee.

"Hey," JC said, "there's one cold remedy we haven't tried."

Justin turned his head, frowning, and JC leaned forward and stuck his tongue in Justin's mouth.

"Dude," Justin said with some consternation, "it's been a long - "

"I know," JC said.

He leaned forward and kissed Justin again. Justin tried to slide away but it was his drunken lack of co-ordination or maybe the sudden surge of desire that made him almost fall all over JC instead. He ended up with one hand in JC's lap and the other braced on the back of the couch so he didn't end up face-down on the floor.

JC was such a fucking good kisser.

JC looked down at the hand in his lap and smiled.

"I guess Jessica could go out tonight," Justin said softly. He took a deep breath in, and then another, trying to keep his lungs from taking quick gasps of air like they were demanding. Chinese food, spiked coffee, video games, sex with JC. It was getting sick on a tour bus all over again.

"She could?"

"I think she could."

***

The problem, Justin thought as he woke up the next morning, was that his life couldn't be like this all the time. Jessica had stayed over with a girlfriend the night before, and in her place next to him was JC; it was like waking up in another time. JC shifted sleepily underneath him, still out for the count.

Justin was still sick. His head still ached, and the ache seemed to have migrated down into his muscles overnight, and his first attempt at a deep breath of the morning turned into a spluttering cough loud enough to wake the dead. It would have shocked Jessica into a sitting position, but JC didn't even seem to notice. Justin smiled as he sat up, despite the all-over ache and all the gunk in his sinuses. Man, but JC was beautiful.

He took a long shower, which helped his muscles some, and then went down to the kitchen to fix coffee and think about breakfast. There was leftover Chinese food, and possibly the remains of pizza, though his memory was fuzzy on the later parts of the night. Too much food, booze, Playstation and sex. He was pouring a mug for JC when the doorbell rang.

Justin started, almost spilling coffee everywhere, and took a moment to compose himself before going to the door. When he opened it, his mouth fell open, and Chris's most mischievous smile was just about the only thing he could focus on.

The missing piece. Justin gaped, thinking that this could only be JC's doing. Crazy, random, twisted, sexy, thoughtful JC. He couldn't think of a damn thing to say.

Chris could. Chris hadn't ever been lost for words in his life. He held up an overnight bag in one hand; there was a basketball under the other arm, as if Justin didn't have a room full of them.

"Did somebody order an ass-kicking?"


End file.
